Coming home means shoes by the door because I’ll never be old enough to wear shoes in my mother’s house.
It means getting that view, that #nofilter view of a valley untouched.
It means moments playing the old upright when no one is home because I love playing in my rusty-out-of-practice way that I can only do in an empty house.
It means Satellite TV and a fridge full of family meal leftovers.
Family! And a porch swing and rocking chairs and fire flies with heat lightning.
Honeysuckle bushes bordering the entire ridge behind the house.
The sun coming up in my old room
It means a sky full of stars outside my old bedroom window just asking for me to count them and let me them show me the glory of their Creator.